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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192380">A Recipe For Disaster</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGlitch/pseuds/PeachGlitch'>PeachGlitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Thick of It (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Missing Scene, Morning After, S3:Ep2, With a sprinkle of Eastbourne at the end because that bathroom scene is gold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:20:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGlitch/pseuds/PeachGlitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after the irretrievable data loss, and Nicola’s slip up in front of a reporter. She wakes up in Malcolm’s bed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nicola Murray/Malcolm Tucker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Recipe For Disaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Nicola wakes up she feels disoriented. The ceiling she’s currently looking up at is not one she’s familiar with. The mattress she’s lying on feels firmer than her own. And there’s a distinct smell of male cologne which is most definitely not that of her husband’s.</p><p>After blinking a couple of times, it all comes flooding back to her vividly and she actually blushes. Yesterday had been a particularly bad day. Her colossal fuck up of revealing the data loss blunder to an on the record reporter, had put her in the firing line of one of Malcolm’s explicit tirades. That had swiftly turned into him berating her in his office about the data loss itself in front of Terri. She had hoped taking along someone else would of diluted Malcolm’s harshness. She should of known that with a witness or not, he wouldn’t be any less vicious.</p><p>They’d left his office together, only for Nicola to decide that she wanted to try to explain to Malcolm again, that the data loss really wasn’t her fault. Yes, she’d messed up by speaking about it so openly. But she did not deserve to be treated as if the whole thing was her doing.</p><p>So after telling Terri she’d make her own way back to the office, she’d turned back in the direction they’d walked from. Her plan was to be calm and diplomatic. Which lasted about eight seconds, until Malcolm got under her skin so much that they started shouting at each other in the middle of his office. The exchange had become so heated that Sam even popped her head in at one point to make sure everything was alright. This had somewhat softened Malcolm’s demeanour, but he still was unrelenting when it came to blaming her for everything.</p><p>Nicola had tried to leave then. Realising that nothing she could say would change his view on the matter. To her surprise he had grabbed her by the bicep just before she got to the door. She’d glared at him for that, and reminded him about inappropriate physical contact in the work place. He’d let go immediately, only to suggest that after work she should come to his home if it was more appropriate.</p><p>The double meaning behind his choice of words had been obvious. Which had left Nicola feeling utterly confused. She balked at him, he’d just shrugged his shoulders. He’d only ever shown contempt towards her. Never anything that could elude to him ever liking her, not even in a personal way. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. That whatever game he was playing, she would not be participating. Instead she’d shocked herself, and maybe even Malcolm a little, by saying very quietly. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/><p>The last few hours of work pass in a blur for Nicola. From Glen so obviously sacking the wrong person on purpose, to having to come face to face with Marianne’s smug face again, and on top of it all wondering what the night would bring after 5:30pm. After agreeing to go over to Malcolm’s he’d texted her the address, but told her to get Elvis to drop her off on another street. Fuckfuckfuck. Was she really doing this? Organising a rendezvous with a college, and not just any, but Malcolm Fucking Tucker of all people.</p><p>At 5:35 she starts to walk down the stairs at DoSAC, and briefly considers changing her mind. It would be easy just to not show up, then act tomorrow as if she thought it was all a big joke. Or maybe just text Malcolm, telling him that something had come up and she had to work late. Nicola scoffs to herself at that, he knew everything that went on, and would know it was a lie immediately.</p><p>Just as she gets to the front door, her phone buzzes in her handbag. She stops, and rifles through the bag with her right hand, until she feels the object.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Has glummy mummy eaten since lunch?’</em>
</p><p>She frowns, before typing out a reply.</p><p> <b> ‘What does that have to do with anything? N.’</b></p><p>Elvis is waiting outside, so she keeps walking. Smiling at someone she doesn’t recognise as they hold the door open for her.</p><p>As she sits down in the back of the car, after giving Elvis the directions, she glances back at her phone. There’re three replies from Malcolm.</p><p>
  <em>‘Ffs...🤬 Excuse me for caring.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Scratch that. I don’t, you ungrateful cretin.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘I’m making pasta carbonara anyway. 🖕🏻’</em>
</p><p>Nicola doesn’t know what’s more surprising, Malcolm’s use of emojis or the fact he was apparently cooking dinner for her.</p><p>The first thing Nicola does whilst exiting the car is step right into a puddle. She swears under her breath, but hasn’t got time to dwell on the incident before trying to find Malcolm’s house. She’d done as he said and been dropped of a street away.</p><p>Her sense of direction is dismal at best, after one wrong turn and having to go back on herself she finally finds the right place.</p><p>“You look like a drowned rat. Haven’t you ever heard of umbrellas?” Malcolm asks as soon as he opens the door.</p><p>She glowers at him, as she pushes damp hair away from her face. “Fuck off, Malcolm.” She mutters and he steps aside to let her in.</p><p>He helps her out of her coat, and hangs it neatly  next to his own, then leads her into the living room. Where a bowl of warm pasta and a glass of sparkling water awaits her. She wonders if his decision not to give her alcohol is a calculated one. So she can’t blame being drunk for whatever happened that evening. Not that she’d ever do that anyway.</p><p>“You didn’t have to.” She says, as she slumps down on the sofa. Her stomach grumbles, giving away her hunger. After the day she’d had, she’d actually not eaten since breakfast.</p><p>“Just fucking eat, Nicola.” He says, as he joins her on the sofa and picks up his own bowl.</p><p>To anyone else it would almost seem domestic. The two of them sitting there eating super together, whilst talking about benign topics. But there was an undercurrent of tension between them. One that Nicola couldn’t shake off, especially when Malcolm kept glancing at her with those grey eyes of his.</p>
<hr/><p>Nicola hadn’t expected to stay the night. After experiencing two of possibly the best orgasms of her life. Once by Malcolm’s talented fingers against her clit, while still fully clothed in her sodden suit, against the cushions of his sofa. Then again with his cock inside her, whilst she was on top of him in his bed. She had assumed he’d want her out of his home as soon as possible. Instead when she’d rolled off of him, and started to gather her things he’d stopped her with a rather abrupt scoff. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Nicola.” Then patted the space next to him. She’d looked for any sign of caustic or sardonic glints on his features, after seeing none, she’d complied. Far to exhausted to queastion him, let alone get dressed and make her way home. James was away on a business conference and the kids were at his mothers, so no one would be expecting her home anyway.</p><p>Malcolm turned on his side, so his back was facing her. The glow from his blackberry the only light illuminating the otherwise dark room. Nicola had laid there on her back for the longest time, she stayed as still as possible, wary of even touching him. Which in itself was ridiculous considering they’d had sex twice. Until her tiredness took a hold of her and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.</p><p>Now in the cold light of day, she can already feel her anxiety creeping up on her. There’s a simmering panic, over what had transpired the night before, in the pit of her stomach. Malcolm is no where to be seen, at least she didn’t have to face him just yet. Nicola wonders how this will change things, how Malcolm would be with her. She has a sinking feeling that he will want her gone. Unless that was his plan all along. To get her into his bed just so he has ammunition to threaten her with. The worry in her stomach, turns into an actual physical ache. She wishes she knew where the bathroom was. From her experience of panic attacks, being sick usually helped her a little. She hasn’t got the nerve to go wondering around Malcolms house. Although she knows she will have to move at some point.</p><p>With a resigned sigh, Nicola sits up. She’s still got her M&amp;S bra on, other than she’s naked. She vaguely remembers her clothes being discarded all over the place the night before. Apart from her bra, which she refused to take off, after one to many criticisms about her breasts from James, since giving birth for the last time, had made her self conscious about them. When she looks around for the rest of her clothing, she finds them all neatly folded in a pile on a chest of drawers opposite the bed. The thought of Malcolm picking up her clothes and folding them for her is unsettling. Just because it seems so out of character for him to do anything to make this less awkward for her. It is helpful though. So when she gets up, bringing the covers with her for modesty, even though she’s alone. It’s not as daunting, as it would of been to frantically find her clothes on the floor.</p><p>Nicola dresses herself quickly. She briefly considers forgoing her tights and stuffing them into her blazer pocket. But then reconsiders, considering it was mid November and probably freezing outside. After toeing on her heels, she goes over to a mirror hanging up on the wall. Her makeup from the previous day is gone, and although she’s usually wearing minimal makeup anyway, she feels slightly exposed. Her hair is more of a mess than usual. She uses her fingers to comb through it as best as she can, then gives up when she realises that without her serum, it was going to remain frizzy until she got home.</p><p>Glancing back at the bed, the mother in her wonders if she should make it. Instead she just picks up the blanket she’d been using to cover herself and drapes it back onto the bed. She takes a deep breath, then turns towards the door. She half hopes that Malcolm has gone out. The thought of facing him now isn’t a pleasant one. This was a mistake on so many levels. As soon as she opens the door of the room though, she can hear someone moving about downstairs. The smell of fresh coffee engulfs her senses, and she knows straight away that Malcolm is down there.</p><p>Slowly, she walks down the wooden staircase. Painfully aware of her heels clicking against them loudly. Surely alerting Malcolm of her approach. When she reaches the bottom step, she sees her handbag and duster coat hanging next to his coat on the peg next to the front door. It would be so easy to grab it and exit, without having to speak to him. But she couldn’t avoid him forever.</p><p>She starts to count to ten in her head. Mentally preparing herself, to whatever was going to transpire as soon as she was in front of him. She gets to six, when he suddenly appears at the threshold of the door she assumed lead into his kitchen. “Are you planning on standing there like a statue all day, or do you want some coffee?” He drawls out, looking slightly amused at her.</p><p>Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and she misses her footing, stumbling down the last step and using the rail of the staircase to keep her balance. He rolls his eyes at her, then mutters something under his breath that sounds like ‘fucking omnishambles.’</p><p>“Well if you decide you want some coffee, then follow me. Try not to break your neck in the process.” He quips casually, and turns back in the direction of the kitchen. After a few seconds she follows him, her heart beating so loudly, she’s surprised he can’t hear it.</p><p>There’re two coffee cups on the table, already filled. One has milk in it, while the other is black. She walks over to the one with milk and picks it up. “Shit.” She winces after attempting a sip and burning her lip in the process.</p><p>“Yeah, coffee tends to be hot.” He points out sarcastically as he picks up the other cup and blows on the liquid for emphasis.</p><p>She glares at him, then puts the cup down to cool. She doesn’t know what to say. Feeling more awkward than she had after waking up in his bed. She can’t look at him, so instead she studies his kitchen. It’s not what she’d expected. It’s modern, but it’s also cosy. “I uhm like your kitchen.” She blurts our randomly, ignoring the elephant in the room.</p><p>Malcolm scoffs, “right, so you’re in avoidance mode, good to know. Christ, Nicola I can practically see the aura of panic surrounding you.” He says, after taking a sip of his coffee. “We are adults. We had sex. Get over it.”</p><p>His matter of fact attitude gets her attention, and she finally looks at at him. She hadn’t noticed before he wasn’t wearing his usual suit. Instead he’s in a comfy looking fleece and jeans. His attire makes him look less severe, it relaxes her somewhat but not entirely. “I’m not panicking.” She lies, and he rolls his eyes at her. “Okay maybe I am, a little. But can you blame me? I don’t make a habit of waking up in other mens beds. Especially someone I work with. I mean fuck, I’ve cheated on my husband I...I-</p><p>“<i>You</i> were fucking magnificent.” He interrupts. “And if you’re going to pretend like you didn’t enjoy it, then you’re a liar, just as much as you’re useless at government work.”</p><p>Nicola’s eyes widen at that. “How are you so calm?” She asks indignantly, ignoring his insult. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, blackmailing me right now? Or I don’t know, something equally as bad.”</p><p>Malcolms features turn into a scowl. There’s a flicker of disappointment on his face for a second, then it’s gone. “I might be capable of a lot of things. But blackmailing women I’ve slept with isn’t one of them. And frankly, if you think it’s something I would do, then you are a shit judge of character.”</p><p>When she thinks about it, Nicola starts to feel guilty. He’s right, of course he is. Nicola looks down at her feet. “Sorry.” She mumbles quietly, then looks up at him again. “Okay then. So I’ll ask you again, <em>how</em> are you calm? You hate me to start with, and now this..” She motions between them dramatically with her hands. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit concerned that we might of ruined our working relationship?”</p><p>He shrugs his shoulders and leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Like I said it’s just sex. And I’ve never said I hate you, Nicola. Do I find you irritating? <em>Yes</em>. Think that you’re a massive neurotic fuck up. <em>Yeah</em>. But I don’t hate you. Do you think I’d keep trying to help you, if I hated you? Trust me. There are Ministers out there who don’t get the level of patience I manage to muster with you on a daily basis.”</p><p>Nicola isn’t sure if she should be greatful or insulted. She settles on somewhere inbetween both emotions. Her eyes narrow fraction. “So you really don’t think this was a mistake?” She asks, reaching for the cup of coffee again.</p><p>“I don’t make mistakes.” He states dead pan.</p><p>Nicola doesn’t know what to say. A part of her feels slightly flattered. Her panic ebbs away, but she still isn’t sure if she should still be worried. It’s in her nature to overthink any given situation. “Oh.” She says, feeling a bit silly. Until she remembers it still didn’t make things right that he was so sure that it wasn’t a mistake. She’d still been unfaithful to James. As much as their marriage was barely functioning at the moment, it still didn’t excuse her actions. “I’ve never cheated on anyone before.” She says softly. “I think I’m going to have to tell James.”</p><p>Now it’s Malcolm glaring at her. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Her shouts. “I have no intention of blackmailing you or going to the papers but from what I know about the infamous Mr Murray, that is exactly what he would do. So no, Nicola. You aren’t going to tell him fuck all, do you hear me?”</p><p>“But I can’t lie to him.” She whines sadly. Forgoing her coffee again, and placing it back down. “I know he can be an asshole, but he’s still my husband. I can’t look at him in the eyes, knowing what I’ve done behind his back.”</p><p>“Are you sure that he is as loyal and honest as you?” He counters back. “Because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know he’s definitely played away from home once or twice.</p><p>Nicola swallows a lump in her throat. She knows he’s right, but that doesn’t make it easier. Her main reason for turning a blind eye to James’s extramarital affairs was the children. Them, and the fact she didn’t have to spend as much time with him. There was a part of her that hurt though. They had loved each other once, he’d been the first boy at university to show her a shred of affection and attention. He’d been different then, but so had she. “Even if he has, it doesn’t mean I’m like him.” Nicola says.</p><p>“That’s my point. You wouldn’t fuck his life over. You proved that when you saved his job. But you shouldn’t let him ruin your career because of one night.” Malcolm advises her, much like he did at work. He doesn’t sound as harsh right now. In fact he sounded dangerously close to actually giving a shit about her.</p><p>“So it’s just one time then? We can forget it ever happened?” She asks tentatively.</p><p>Malcolm doesn’t respond right away. He observes her for the longest time. “If that makes it easier for you, then yeah. It can be filed away under, never to be mentioned again.” He says in a far softer tone than usual.</p><p>“I think that’s for the best, don’t you?” She questions him, because she can’t help herself. Ever since they met, she needed his reassurance.</p><p>“Whatever you want to do, I’ll do. Like I said, I’d never use this against you.” He answers, and she can tell he’s being genuine.</p><p>“Right then, uhm well...that’s settled.” She stammers, “and I won’t say anything then.” She adds, though Malcolm doesn’t seem interested anymore. He’s picked up his phone and is frowning down at it.</p><p>His blackberry buzzes in his hand, and she takes it as an opportunity to finally leave. “I’ll let you get that. I need to get home, I have a few errands to run before the kids get back.” And by errands, she means shower, then probably dwell more about her night of passion with Malcolm.</p><p>He looks unconvinced but nods anyway. “Alright. Be careful for paps when you leave though. Wouldn’t want you leaving my house at 8am make it into the Daily Mail.” He jokes, but she’s not exactly in the mood and it falls flat</p><p>So Nicola just nods as well, then turns to leave. “Hey, Nicola.” He calls after her. She stops and glances at him over her shoulder.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Don’t over think this okay, last thing I need now is you turning into a wreck and making even more mistakes. Which by the way I haven’t forgotten about.” He says referencing the data loss. “If we are forgetting about last night, then we are doing it properly. So no fucking throwing it in each others faces the next time I piss you off or vice versa.”</p><p>She wants to hiss again that it wasn’t her fault and that she wasn’t that childish. She just scowls instead, then stomps towards the front door. Her last thought before the brisk morning air wakes her up a little more, is that she didn’t even have a sip of her coffee.</p>
<hr/><p>The next time they see each other is in Glen’s hotel room in Eastbourne. Nicola is too stressed about her speech, and the fact that she possibly had blood on her grey dress, to feel awkward. Malcolm doesn’t flinch either when he sees her, more focused on trying to rectify the situation with Glen.</p><p>It’s not until later, after the chaotic day finally catches up to her and Nicola beckons Malcolm into the bathroom, do either of them let their guard down. “Get rid of her.” Nicola orders sternly, trying to keep her breathing under control. Malcolm places his hands on either side of her shoulders, and leans in as he reassures her. His tone is quiet and calm and even gentle. </p><p>“Okay. We go out there, we say our goodbyes and we’ll get Glen to go out and do the fucking desert burial, okay?” One of his hands moves to ghost over the ends of her hair, she shivers. Fuck, she can’t keep her eyes off of his lips either.</p><p>“Yeah.” She manages to say, forcing herself to look up.</p><p>He smiles, as his hands drop from her shoulders. “You just try and compose yourself.”</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>“<em>Ok?</em>”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They share a look of understanding, before going back to face the clusterfuck of a scenario being played out. Malcolm’s hand stays on the small of her back, until they’re out of the bathroom.</p>
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